


After Eddie

by lousxgreenwalls



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Divorce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Healing, Heartache, M/M, No Smut, Self-Harm, Shock, Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lousxgreenwalls/pseuds/lousxgreenwalls
Summary: Richie was heartbroken when Eddie was killed by the monster Pennywise. How could he possibly move on from his first love?With the love and support of the other Losers, can he move on or will he be unable to? Will someone else come along and lighten up his life or will someone very unexpected return?
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. Funeral

**_Three weeks later, after defeating Pennywise_ **

Funerals suck big time. Everyone knows that. They cause you to reminisce about the past, which isn't always a good thing. Most people spend their entire time crying and sometimes not thinking at all. Some aren't really sure why they're there and just go for the free food afterwards. And there's that one person who reads a verse from the Bible that makes everyone cry that little bit harder. 

Today was no different. The tears, the tissues, the hugs. But there were no more tears from Richie, he'd cried enough already. He'd sobbed himself dry, dryer than a puddle on a hot summers day. 

At least he thought he was. Richie could feel the tears prickling the sides of his eyes as he stared at the empty coffin laying at the front. No, he told himself. He couldn't cry in front of Eddie's family. He had to be strong. Strong for Eds. 

There was one thing that still bothered Richie, though. Something that Eddie had said right before he- He didn't want to finish that thought, he couldn't. Richie could still picture him, standing over him like that, the gauze on his face starting to peel off. He was so excited, he really thought he'd defeated him. Him...

Penny- _fucking_ \- wise. 

The claw that impaled Eddie was so strong, so determined. Pennywise wanted the person who killed him to die the same way. 

Richie never left Eddie's side until he absolutely had too. Eddie started going on about how he'd made the leper feel small and weak. Richie could sense the pride in his breathless voice. He wanted to keep him talking, keep him alive. The last thing Eddie ever said was still begging for an answer.

_I need to tell you something._

Argh! Richie wanted to scream, he wanted talk to God, the big boss. Phone up Heaven and ask 'Hey can I talk to the amazing Edward Kaspbrak, please? Yeah, he didn't get to fucking finish what he was saying because you arseholes cut him off!' To be honest, they'd probably hang up on him. But that's all dependent on whether God is real or not.

Bev- oh sweet, sweet Bev, she didn't deserve a horrid life like this at all. She shook Richie's arm, pulling him from his thoughts. The rest of the Losers were all sat in the second row behind Eddie's family; Ben first, then Bev, Richie, Mike and finally, Bill. 

Big Bill. Billiam. He was the one who got them into this shit in the first place. If he'd just stayed with the fact that Georgie was well and truly dead then he wouldn't have gone looking and maybe, just maybe, Eddie would still be alive. Richie should be angry at Bill, but he couldn't be. Bill didn't know this would happen.

Bev gripped Richie's hand tightly. "You alright, Rich?" She asked.

He gave her a small smile, it was the best he could do. "Yeah, I was just...thinking." He looked down at their hands because he didn't want her to see his tears.

"Hey, it's OK. You should be sad. Everyone here loved him and nothing will ever change that." Bev's voice was very soothing. Richie felt almost too relaxed listening to her.

"Thanks, Bev." She smiled warmly and brought a hand to his cheek, stroking his stubble gently before turning to face the front, as a women Richie believed to be Eddie's wife stood up. Bev never took her hand away from his, Richie was grateful for that.

Eddie's wife was an ordinary, lovely-looking women. Dark brown hair and dark green eyes. Maybe spent to much time watching television but still lovely. If Richie had to be perfectly honest, she did remind him of Eddie's controlling mother. Richie almost laughed but then remembered where he was and why he was there. Mrs. K. had died a few years ago, according to Eddie.

"Thank you all so much for coming." She began. "It's so nice to see some of you- I just wish that it was under different circumstances. It's lovely to finally see the friends that he grew up with." Her eyes flickered over to the Losers and she locked eyes with Richie. He felt shame wash over him. He didn't know why so he looked away from her saddening stare.

She breathed in and sighed deeply, her breath shaking. "Oh, Eddie, my Eddie." Richie wanted to stop her right then and there and tell her that Eddie was his and only his, but he couldn't, obviously. Bev seemed to sense his slight frustration and squeezed his hand. "He was... Ugh, I don't know. There are too many words to describe what kind of man he was. Gentle, kind, shy, quick-witted. And so, so many more. Friends that had known him longer than I, agree with me, I hope. Even though I don't know how he left, I would like to think that he died knowing there were so many people who loved him." She was doing an amazing job at keeping herself together, Richie thought. "Would anyone like to say a little something before we head outside?"

He didn't know why he did it but he did. Richie stood up, giving Bev's hand another squeeze and letting go. Everyone turned to look at him and Richie felt very small. Twenty or so pairs of eyes on you isn't something you wish for unless you're famous- then you'd want all the attention.

Richie squeezed past Ben and Beverly and moved towards the podium. To anyone, he'd look like he hadn't slept for weeks. Which he hadn't. Maybe a few hours at the most. Eddie's wife gave him a sympathetic look, and there was something else that Richie couldn't quite read, as she went sit in the first row.

He gripped the wooden edges of the podium to keep himself from falling over and embarrassing himself. "Hey everyone, I'm Richie Tozier and Eddie was my best friend. Out of the seven of us he was always above the others to me, no offence guys." No one laughed and he didn't want them too. This wasn't a time to be funny. The Losers smiled up at him urging him to continue. He pushed his glasses up his nose- he'd bought himself a new pair as he had lost his old pair in the Neilbolt house. Fuck that wretched place.

"I remember one time when we were younger, Ben had found this underground tree house thing. It was kinda crap to begin with but we made it work, we made it ours. There was a hammock in one corner and we'd said that we'd each get ten minutes in it. But, me being me, spent more than that in it and, obviously, Eddie had kept a timer." Richie chuckled and looked down at his life-long friends and they all seemed to remember it as they all smiled up at him.

"He marched over to me and told me to get out. I told him no, saying there was no sign telling me the rules. But he wouldn't have it so, initially, he got in the hammock with me. At the time I found it annoying, but looking back now, I realise how fucking funny it was. He even knocked my glasses off using his foot." Richie grinned lovingly at the memory. He also managed to gain a few laughs too.

Then, Richie's smile faded. He felt he should probably go and sit back down and let someone else say something, but he couldn't. He had to say one more thing. Just get it off his chest.

"There's something else I wanted to say... I- He wasn't just a best friend to me. He was more than that..." No, he couldn't cry now. His eyes started to sting as a result of him not blinking for the past few moments. When he did finally blink a few times, his tears fell slowly down his face.

"I loved him and- and I still do." Richie couldn't believe he'd just said that- especially in front of everyone Eddie knew. So, instead of facing their judging comments that would most likely follow, he quickly stepped off the podium and jogged down the aisle and out of the church doors, lifting a shaky hand to wipe away his forthcoming tears.

Richie didn't leave completely he just found himself a bench to sit on. From where he was he could see the grave where they'd bury the empty coffin. He saw no point to burying an empty grave, they was no one fucking inside it, it was a waste of space.

He felt truly numb. Everything was suddenly getting to him again. The horrid thrill of it all, the loss of his best best friend and lover. Richie's face burned from his onslaught of tears, now inhabiting within his eye lids and falling soundlessly down his cheeks and onto his jacket. 

How could he say that? Just spill out his feelings like that! Derry wasn't the most homosexual-friendly place in the world. And they were in a church, for God's sake! Now, Richie hadn't read the Bible but he knew there was something about being gay is a sin. Bullshit.

"Hey." Great, just the voice he wanted to hear. Eddie's wife came and sat down on the bench next to him. The bench creaked quietly under her weight.

Richie looked in the opposite direction from where she sat, not daring to see her face.

"Sorry about that. You can burn me at the steak now, no need to restrain me, I'll be willing to go." Richie deadpanned. Eddie's wife chuckled beside him.

"Hi, the name's Myra." She held out her hand to him. After hearing her pause he turned to face her to see she was smiling. Richie glanced down at her hand then back up to her eyes.

Richie took her hand and smiled hesitantly. They shook hands slowly. He let go and pushed his glasses up his nose again. 

"Why are you being so fucking nice to me? I literally just admitted my life-long love for your husband!"

Myra scoffed and Richie could hear a hint of laughter. "He was practically your husband."

Richie was taken a back that he almost choked on his tongue. "What?" 

"Yep." Myra nodded. "Everyday, at least once he'd talk about you. Richie this, Richie that. Most things seemed to wind back to you somehow." 

"Really? Doesn't seem like Eds."

"Ah, there is it." Richie looked at her, questioning what she'd just said. "He never let me call him that- he always said that only one person could... And I guess that person is you." She smiled sweetly at him. "Sometimes, when I would be talking to him, he obviously wouldn't be listening. I'd ask him what he was thinking about and he'd say it didn't matter... But I knew-" She inhaled deeply. "I knew he was thinking about you."

Richie was speechless, utterly speechless. The love of his life actually loved him back. He just stared at her in disbelief.

He shook his head. "No, you're just saying that to make me feel better, aren't you?"

"I'm really not. He loved you more than he did me." Myra rested a hand on his knee and patted it. "Think of this as some sort of closure, maybe?"

"Thanks." He gave her a sweet smile and she replied with a motherly one. 

They sat there for a few moments, enjoying each others company. The sun had started to pop its head past the clouds making Richie feel warm again. There was slight breeze and the trees swayed peacefully.

"We should probably go back inside now." Myra suggested.

"Yeah, OK." Richie stood up and followed Myra as she opened the old, wooden door and entered the church once more.

Myra went back to the podium and apologised. A few more people came up and said things but Richie found them quite boring. Same old, same old, 'Eddie was this, Eddie was that'. He'd managed to squeeze himself back in between Bev and Mike. He didn't say anything and they didn't press him too, which he was grateful for.

Myra suggested that it was time for the coffin to be carried out to the hole dug for it. The time for people to say their last goodbyes. Everyone followed slowly behind the coffin as six men in black tuxedos carried it out into sun. 

So, there they stood, watching the hollow coffin being lowered carefully down into the ground never to see the light of day again. The Losers were closest to the front, gazes filled with utter grief. 

Bev was sobbing quietly and Ben was comforting her lovingly. They had always been destined for each other, Richie thought. So were him and Eddie but look how that turned out. 

After a few words spoken by a man Richie didn't know, everyone started going their separate ways. But Richie didn't want his friends to leave just yet, he had something to show them. 

"Hey, arseholes." Richie almost laughed at how they all turned to him. "I want to show you guys something."

"What is it, Richie?" Ben sighed. 

"That's for me to know and for you to find out, Haystack." remarked Richie. 

The other Losers looked skeptical at his sudden mood change, but agreed nonetheless. They all got into their respective motor vehicles and followed Richie out of the churchyard car park. 

The place he wanted to show them was sure to bring back a few bad memories but that wasn't why he was going there. 

Richie parked his car on the side of the road and got out. By now the other Losers knew where they were, but for what reason? They didn't know. 

They were, in fact, at the Kissing Bridge. 


	2. R+E

_**After Eddie's funeral** _

Ben was never one for love. He was never the right type for it. Nerdy and chubby and not the usual type a girl was looking for. But when Beverly Marsh arrived in his life, it all changed. He saw love in a whole new perspective. She made him feel things that he'd never experienced. Sure, he'd had crushes on girls before but not one like her. 

Soon, Ben's whole being was coiled around Beverly. They'd only had one class together and didn't really know each other all that well, but Ben felt like he'd known her for a while. A lifetime, even.

Ben used to envy her a bit because of her amazing confidence and carefree attitude. He'd never been like that, ever. Bev was _way_ too good for him, and he'd admit that. Why would she ever pick him?

But, after that time when Beverly had taken his headphones- his broken project soon forgotten- and placed them gently on her head, Ben had received a glimmer of hope. He'd barely been able to conjure up any form of sentence to begin with. 

New Kids On The Block. That was their new inside joke and their secret. He was a nerd enough already so he didn't want the other Losers knowing what strange music he jammed too. 

Twenty-seven years later and Ben was still hopelessly in love with Bev. He'd almost given up any hope of her ever loving him back, but that time finally arrived. After confessing his feelings in a very in-the-spur-of-the-moment way whilst he very close to being dragged under forever, Bev realised how much Ben meant to her. He couldn't quite believe it when she'd kissed him under the murky Quarry water.

Here they were now, driving to an unknown location together after their best friends funeral. Ben didn't like surprises very much so when Richie wouldn't tell where it was they were going, he almost snapped at him.

They were driving behind everyone else so they were the last to see where they were. In front, Mike's car braked and switched off its engine. Ben's breath hitched when he saw where they were. He didn't let Bev see that, though.

Slamming the doors shut, Ben and Beverly walked hand in hand towards the others. Richie was leaning on his bonnet, twirling the keys on his finger.

"Why are we here, Rich?" Mike asked, expectantly. Richie caught his keys, pushed himself off the car and moved towards the tattered fence.

"Come here and I'll show you." Ben rolled his eyes. When he shut them for that brief moment, he caught the flashbacks of... Henry Bowers and his shit-faced friends.

"This is where Bowers sliced me up..." He muttered.

Bev squeezed his hand, reassuring him. "Well, he got what was coming for him, didn't he? It was karma, wasn't it." 

Ben leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on Bev's forehead. She smiled at him and then let go of his hand, walking over to Richie.

"This," Richie rested his hand on the bridge. "is what I wanted to show you."

"What?" Bill asked, eyes scanning over the forty-year-old wood. 

"Look closer." Richie deadpanned and stood back to let them see.

Ben knelt down and searched. His eyes landed upon two letters carved deeply into the wood. He felt Bev kneel next to him as she brushed her fingers over the carving.

"R+E? Oh, Richie..." cooed Beverly. 

"When did you do this?" Ben asked, turning his whole body to look up at Richie. 

Richie looked away, like he was ashamed. "After we defeated that shithead the first time. And then I went over it again a few weeks ago." Richie smiled meekly at his friends. "Guys, I wanted to tell you something that I've finally come to terms with..."

The Losers all raised their brows, as if to say _'Get on with it then!'._

"I'm gay and I like wang!" Richie admitted cheerfully. Ben groaned, as did the others.

"Yes, we know!" Bev grinned happily. 

Richie nodded to himself. "Well, alright then." Ben watched as he pulled out what looked like two small pocket knives. "Your turn." 

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Your not gonna kill us are you?"

"What? No! It's you guy's turn to carve your initials." 

Ben sighed and grabbed a knife from Richie's palm. He started to carve out a B, making sure it was deep enough to see. He then proceeded to carve a + symbol. Beverly had gotten the gist of what he was going for and snatched the weapon from her boyfriend, and began scraping another B.

Meanwhile, next to them, Bill was scratching away with the second knife. The letters he'd dug out were a B and also a + symbol, but he wasn't finished yet. Next came the letter S. An S for Stanley, Ben figured.

Mike rested a comforting hand on Bill's shoulder. "Stan?" asked Mike. Bill hummed and nodded in response and proceeded to stand up, brushing off his trousers. He handed the knife to Mike and walked off back towards his car. 

Ben had never seen him like that before. Well, except for when Bill finally came to the realization that Georgie was truly gone. Bill was always the strong one out of them all. Seeing him broken like this wasn't a good sign. 

Ben followed where Bill had gone and leaned on the car beside his friend. 

"It'll be his next." Bill mumbled all of a sudden, looking straight ahead at his friends.

"Huh?" 

"Stan. It'll be his funeral next, won't it?" Bill side glanced at him. Ben just nodded to himself. Why had his life turned out like this? Why _him?_ Why his friends? 

Richie clasped his hand together loudly. "Right, gang. I've got to go. I've got work tomorrow so imma head out." 

They exchanged hugs and goodbyes as they all clambered back into their vehicles. With one last wave out of the window, Ben and Bev pulled away from their friends. Never looking back, and hoping to never return to that horrible, horrible town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's so sad to begin with.  
> Bare with me, please!


	3. Coward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of self-harm. Please don't read if you find this a sensitive subject.

_**Three weeks ago, Mike's phone call** _

"How soon can you get here?" The deep voice of his old friend asked. 

"Well, I- uh... I would need to do a few things-" Stan rambled but was cut off abruptly by Mike. 

"Tomorrow." Stan shut his eyes and drew a shaky breath. "We don't have much time. I'll text you everything you need. I'll see you soon, Stan The Man." And with that, Mike hung up. Just hearing that nickname brought back unwanted memories. 

Stan sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. All he wanted was to finish his puzzle and go on an unforgettable holiday with his wife. Now, he couldn't. Well, the latter anyway, as he pushed the last piece into its assigned place in the puzzle. 

Later, after having a quiet dinner with his wife, Stan began a hot bath for himself. He hoped the warm water would wash away his fear, but he knew it wouldn't. 

After stepping in and lying down in the water, Stan let out a long breath of air. His eyes slid shut and he was back, back to being a teenager. Bill was slowly walking towards him, his eyes shone brightly in the afternoon light. Bill's lips began to move but no words left his words. Stan didn't need to hear to know what he'd said. 

_Do you swear?_

Stanley had really wanted to say no but he didn't want to seem weak and a coward, so he'd reluctantly nodded. Coward. That's what he was being right then, a fucking coward. Just because he was scared.

That's the thing, though. He'd allowed his fear of Pennywise to consume him. Fear made the clown stronger. When he swore all those years ago, he was still so afraid of him, unlike the others. 

"I swear, Bill."

Stan turned his head an inch to look at the knife on the side. He couldn't go back there. He was too scared and he'd admit that freely to anyone. Anyone but his Losers. 

A nervous hand lifted up and he grabbed the knife, bringing it under the water towards his other hand. The blade slid over his wrist, the skin breaking almost too easily. Stan felt the pain in his scar. The one that Bill had made with a piece of glass. 

He couldn't go back to Derry if he was dead, could he? Or at least badly injured. He'd miss out on so much, though. He would see the Losers again, his friends, his Bill. 

For so long, as kids, Stanley had been suppressing his small crush on Bill. He'd never been able to act on it, nor would he ever. And seeing his Bill and Bev get on a bit too well just crushed him even more. He was the biggest coward of them all.

He couldn't stop now. Despite all the great things about going back, there was the one obvious bad thing; Pennywise. He was still scared shitless by IT. The way it recreated his fears, and his friend's too.

Now, he was past the point of no return. His breathing was ragged. The hot bath water was now stained red with his blood and getting darker by the second. He could barely speak now, he was too weak, he'd lost too much blood. 

Then came a gentle knock on the bathroom door. It was so soft, in fact, that Stanley almost didn't hear it. "Honey, you got a text from someone named Mike. I didn't read it, but do you want me to reply?" Trisha Uris said from the other side of the door. 

Stan could barely open his eyes, let alone reply to her. He was in so much agony, he wanted it to be over. All he managed was pained moan. Thankfully, it was loud enough for her to hear as the doorknob started to jiggle. 

"Stanley, are you alright in there?" She asked, her voice frantic. She must have realised how long he'd spent in there. Usually half an hour tops, but tonight he'd taken twice as long. 

"Stanley?!" She sounded frantic now. Then suddenly the wiggling of the doorknob ceased. Trisha had gone. Where? Stan didn't know. But he wanted her to come back.

Just then there was a small metal-against-metal sound and the door swung open. Mrs Uris stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of her husband, sending a dulling butter knife to the floor. She didn't even wince when it collided with tiled bathroom floor.

Gasping and eyes filling with tears, she said, "Stanley, what happened?" Her eyes were glued to the ruby red bath water.

Stanley just groaned. "Can't... Go back..." He squeezed out, shutting his eyes.

"No, honey. Keep your eyes open for me. I'm going to call an ambulance." Stan started to win quietly as his wife stood up to call nine-one-one. 

"Yes, hello? Hi. My husband was just taking a bath and I didn't know what he was doing. He- he's cut himself. Please send someone. Quickly." She pleaded. Stanley opened his eyes a smidge and saw her nodding. The operator must have been telling her to do something, as she came back over to him.

Trisha hung up and kneeled by the side of the tub, rolling up her sleeves. Looking away, she dove her hand under the water to pull the plug out. He heard the horrible gurgle sound that it made and made to sit up.

"Don't. Just wait for the water to go down." She smiled softly at him. His face showed no particular emotion as he stared up at her.

He winced greatly as she lifted his arm up to inspect his wounds. 

"Why did you hurt yourself?" She asked, standing up again to get the medical kit. 

"...Mike," He said through hollowed breathes. "I- Can't..." He was fading, not into the deep sleep of forever but into an unconscious state. Mrs Uris tried to wake him again but to no avail. 

The paramedics arrived five minutes later. That was too long for her. Five minutes spent trying to stop Stan from bleeding and put a bandage on them. She didn't get to that point, though, the paramedics took over from then on. Standing there, watching as they lifted Stanley's naked body out of the bath tub and placed him gently on the tiled floor, feeling helpless that she couldn't do anything more.

From there, she could see at least four more cuts embedded in his skin on his thigh. She was crying now, wincing with every time Stan did. 

Trisha had rushed quickly to get some boxers for the paramedics to put on him, taking him to the hospital naked was not a good idea. She rode along in the ambulance with him, her tears were now dry and stained on her cheeks. 

Once they'd arrived at the hospital, Stan was instantly taken into a separate room away from all the open cubicles. Mrs Uris wasn't allowed in and they told her to wait in the Relatives Room. So, she did, for what seemed like hours and hours, twirling his phone in her hands. She had shoved it into her pocket after she'd first knocked on the bathroom door.

Tired of being kept waiting, she stood up and went in search of a nurse. She found one and asked if she could go and see him. The nurses replied saying she could and that Stan kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Trisha thanked her and pushed open the door into her husband's room.

He had an IV line in his arm and bandages wrapped tightly around his wrists and thighs, blood starting to seep through the many layers. The heart rate monitor was beeping continuously to the side of his bed. An oxygen mask was attached to his face, covering his nose and mouth. 

At some point they had changed him into one of those horrid hospital gowns, where your arse sticks out and it feels like you're wearing it the wrong way round.

"He'll be fine. But he may need to see a therapist." A voice said from behind her, taking her by surprise.

"Thanks, hun." Trisha paused. "He's not suicidal, y'know. We'd just booked a holiday, he was looking forward to it."

"Most suicidal people act too... Happy when they're thinking of actually- you know? Their peers get suspicious, though. Usually stop them before they do it." Replied the doctor. 

Mrs Uris nodded and went to sit beside Stanley in the chair provided, taking his slightly cold hand into her own and squeezing it. She looked back over at the doctor, who was looking through Stanley's notes. 

"Thank you." Mrs Uris said, simply. The doctor smiled and bowed her head, leaving the room. 

Stanley opened his eyes just enough that he could see his wife. She stopped him when he tried to take off the oxygen mask. Sighing deeply, Trisha pushed a gentle through Stan's golden curls.

"Mhm sorry..." He breathed out. His voice sounded ever so empty like all the life was sucked out of him. His eyes shut once more and Mrs Uris sighed again.

"Oh, Stanley... Why?"

🌺🌸🌺🌸🌺

The sound of high-pitched beeping brought Stanley back into reality. The plastic mask on his face feeding him an unlimited supply of oxygen. He never liked hospitals. Too clean and sterile. But, they're supposed to be like that, aren't they?

And my God! The oxygen did wonders for him. He felt light and airy like a Victoria Sponge cake. Talking of food, he really could do with a small something to eat. Anything would suffice.

His wife was sat in the blue chair provided at his bedside, elbow resting on its arm. Her chin rested firmly on her fingers with her eyes shut. A subtle clearing of Stanley's throat and she was wide awake.

"Hey, baby. How are you feeling?" She shifted closer, almost to the edge of her seat.

"I've definitely felt better." The corners of his mouth twitched into a tiny smile. "How long have I been out?"

"Just a few hours." She paused. Her gaze trailed around the room before landing back on Stan. "I just want to know one thing; why? What made you do such a horrible thing?"

Stan's eyes flickered down so he was staring at the thin sheet covering his broken body. He sighed, not wanting to answer her questions just yet. 

Trisha reached forward and clutched his hand once again and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Stanley, you said you couldn't go back? Honey, what did you mean by that?" 

Stan sighed and looked away from Trisha. "Back when I was a kid, I had a group of friends. They were the only friends I had. There were seven of us; Ben, Beverly, Richie, Eddie, Mike and... Bill."

"Mike. He's the one you kept saying the name of. Why?" Asked Trisha, completely disregarding his obvious pause before saying Bill's name.

"Mike was the only one of us who actually stayed in Derry." He waited for a moment and remembered everything. Even the bad stuff. "I know this may sound crazy but just listen to me." Mrs Uris nodded, knowing not to interrupt him.

"There was this monster. A clown. It took Bill's little brother one day and that's how it all started. Kids began going missing every week. Bill was so determined to find his brother, to convince his parents Georgie wasn't dead." 

Stan chuckled. "He managed to drag all of us into it somehow. I don't know why I helped at all. I was the weakest of us all. When we had defeated IT, none of them were scared anymore... But I was! We made this stupid promise to come back in twenty-seven years time to kill it again. And if I'm correct-" The clock above the door read nine-fifteen am. "Then it'll be tonight when they all arrive at Derry." 

Trisha had confusion written all over her face. It didn't surprise him, though. She probably didn't believe him. That was understandable. She probably thinks he's crazy and take him to therapy.

"But that doesn't explain-" Trisha began but was cut abruptly short by Stanley's phone buzzing on the table next to the bed. She sighed and picked up the mobile device.

She read the caller ID. "Beverly? Isn't she one of the friends you mentioned." 

Stanley had a sudden rush of fear. "Please don't make me go back there! I can't face that- that thing. Just tell them... I did die. Please!" 

Trisha had never seen him so desperate before. It was weird, alien even. But she could see the desperation in his eyes. He really did not want to go back. So, she decided, he didn't have to go. Doing this for him would cost a lot more explaining from him. 

She gave him a sharp look that told him exactly that and he nodded, before quickly answering the call.

"Hello, Mrs Uris. My name is Beverly Marsh. I apologise for calling, but I'm an old friend of your husbands." Stanley could just about head Bev's words.

"Oh... He passed." Mrs Uris said without taking her eyes off of Stan. There was a pause.

"When did it happen?" 

"Yesterday. It was horrible, the way he died. His wrists, in the bathtub." Hearing that sent a pang of guilt through his body. He never really thought about the impact of him dying on Trisha- just his friends.

"-in the bathtub." Bev said at almost the same time as her. How odd? How could she possibly know that? It definitely caught Mrs Uris off guard.

"I'm sorry, I- I have to go." She said it with so much emotion that Stan was beginning to question his wife's acting skills.

"We're all very sorry." 

"Thank you." She hung up and placed the phone gently back onto the table. Resting her head heavy in her hands, she sighed audibly. She raised her head back up and Stan noticed the new string of tears resting in her eyes, threatening to fall.

"You have a lot more explaining to do, mister."


	4. Hey, Rich

**_Two days later, after Eddie's funeral_ **

Two days later and Richie was still knee deep in grief. It felt like everything he set his gaze upon reminded him of Eddie. He wasn't sure why, though. Eddie had never lived with him or even been to his home. It was more like a longing than anything else. 

But, despite everything, Richie wanted him here, right by his side. He wanted Eddie to tell him he was alright, he wasn't dead, and the funeral was a dream-- everything had been a dream. Maybe even, that Stanley was alive too? 

But, no. That would never, ever happen because Eddie was dead, Stan was dead, and there was nothing Richie could do to bring them back. 

So he sat, on his white sofa and watched his favourite television show at the moment; Modern Family. It had become his obsession. His favourite character was Phil. It was just the fact that his character was so oblivious and silly that made Phil so hilarious to Richie. 

There was another reason he loved the show too. There was a couple, their names were Mitchell and Cameron. They had adopted a Vietnamese baby within the first episode, her name was Lily. 

Richie wanted something like that in his life. To have a family. He knew he wouldn't be the best dad in the world, but he'd try his best and he was willing to learn. 

He wanted to have a lovely little-- no, big house for him and his family. Preferably in a quiet neighbourhood, with lovely neighbours. He wanted to be able to go out onto the porch every morning, coffee mug in hand, to grab daily newspaper that had been thrown aimlessly onto the dewy grass only a few minutes ago. That type of reality only happens in movies, though. 

Anyway, he knew he couldn't have that. Well, not now. Now that Eddie's gone. He didn't want to do it with anyone else, but him. So now, he guessed, he would most likely die alone. 

Richie was ripped out of his thoughts as he felt the sofa vibrate, someone was calling him. He raised his hips upwards to grab the device out of his back pocket. Strangely, the caller ID displayed the name of his deceased friend, but how? Stanley had killed himself to get out of fighting that bitch again. So, he figured it was his newly widowed wife. He muted the television and answered the phone. 

"Uh... Hello?" said Richie, afraid of what he might hear.

"Hey, Rich." A very unexpected voice greeted him. Richie gasped and shot up from the sofa, knocking off the television remote and sending it to the floor.

"...Stanley? Stan the Man?" Richie asked in an unsure voice, not something Stan had ever heard before. 

"Yep, that's me. How are you?" He asked, as if nothing was different, nothing had happened to him a few weeks ago.

"Huh-- how? What? I'm fine. What about you?! Mrs Uris told us you were dead?" Richie babbled.

"I know. I really wanted to be. I told her to lie for me because I- I couldn't go back there. I couldn't. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's alright. 'S all good." That was a lie, obviously. There was short pause before Richie continued. "I just can't believe you're not dead."

"Thanks." He said flatly and Richie could almost hear the eye roll. There he is! The young and shy, but sarcastic Stanley. 

"No, as in; it's great that you're not." Richie confirmed. "Have you rung any of the others yet?" There was a few seconds of silence, and Richie got his answer, but was comforted by the sound of Stanley's breathing. He'd never been more glad to hear it, as weird as it sounded. 

Richie sighed. "We were all hit by a fucking truck when we called your wife, but you know who was most effected?" He continued, pausing to let Stan think. "Big Bill."

"Really?" 

"Obviously, yeah. And, I know, he had that fling with Bev when we were younger, but... I really think he loves you." Richie offered, sighing. He bent down, swiping the remote off the floor and placing it delicately onto the coffee table, and plopped himself back down on the sofa. The image onscreen was still Modern Family, but he didn't really see it when his gaze drifted to TV. 

"Of course he does. He loves all of us, as do I!" Stanley sounded like a child again in the way he said it.

"No, Stan." He ran a hand slowly down his face. "I don't think you understand. He fucking loves you. Like love loves you!" 

"Oh, right." Richie thought he sounded ashamed, he didn't need to be ashamed. Richie wasn't ashamed of himself anymore, except a few times when the people around him were very religious and wanted to burn him at the stake.

"Well?" Richie asked, expectantly. 

"What?" 

"Do you love him back?" God, Richie wanted to slap himself. That was such a childish thing to say! I suppose, you never really lose the child inside you, do you? 

"Yes." Stanley muttered, mainly to himself.

"Pardon?"

"Yes! Of course I do!" Stanley exclaimed, as if he'd never said it aloud before. "I'm so fucking in love with him, you have no idea!"

"I do, but that doesn't matter." Richie quickly brushed himself off, leaving Stanley no time to think about what he'd said. "Anyways, where are you?"

"At home. Came home from the hospital a few days ago--" 

"Wait, so what Mrs Uris said was true? About you in the..." Richie trailed off, shifting in his seat. Horrible and gruesome images flashed in his mind.

"Yeah... But I'm fine now, thanks. And, uh-- what happened to that paste-y faced motherfucker?"

"We defeated it... But we, uh, lost someone..." 

"Shit! Who?" 

"Uh... We lost E-Eddie." He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair. Damn, he needed to shower. Richie let out a deep sigh. 

"Oh, Richie. I'm so sorry." 

"Thanks. His funeral was a few days ago." 

"Oh... Sorry I couldn't go. How was it?" 

"Well, y'know how funerals are. But I did get some type of closure from Eddie's wife--"

"Wife? Hold up! Eddie got married, to like-- a women?" The sudden mood change scared Richie, almost making him jump. He grinned. 

"I know right! That's what I said!" Their laughs echoed through both their homes. Trisha had gone out about twenty minutes ago for some groceries. Lately, she'd been leaving the house for shorter periods of time. Of course, Stanley knew why. 

"Ha..." Stan's laugh faded away as did Richie's, and they were pulled into a melancholy moment. The mood was whittled back down to the sound of silence.

After a few silent seconds Stanley spoke again, "Are you free tomorrow?" 

"Well, I have work. But my boss probably won't mind if I'm out for a couple hours." 

"OK, great. Why don't you come over to mine at, let's say...two?"

"OK then, yeah. I'll tell 'em I have an appointment or something." Richie paused before he realised, "I don't have your address."

"Oh, right, yeah. I'll text you later--" Stan was cut off and Richie heard a woman's voice on the other end. Trisha was home. "Anyway, Richie, I gotta go now. See you tomorrow, bye!" 

Richie barely had time to bid him a due, as Stanley hung so fast he was sure his phone got whiplash. 

He let out a deep breath and stood up, walking into his marble-white kitchen. Richie lived in one of those extremely bright, big windows, almost sterile houses. It wasn't a home but it would certainly do the trick. It was convenient for him and his job.

The rest of the night dragged on a bit too long for Richie's liking. But, at least, he was distracted from Eddie and too busy thinking about Stanley. If only that kind of miracle would happen to Eddie. He just wanted him back, he'd do anything. Richie even thought about praying. Despite him not actually believing in the big man in the clouds, he'd be willing to try.

Anything to get his Eddie Spaghetti back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I won't be updating this for a while. I've decided to write a few chapters first so that it's easier for me. I'm working on this and another fanfic at the same time so it's gonna take a while.   
> Thank you for being patient xx
> 
> P.S. I wrote/published this on Wattpad and haven't updates it for a while. It's currently on hold. Sorry x


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